


Quiet

by HollyLeah



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Breaking the Fourth Wall, But like in a super rookie way, Choking, Coming Untouched, Consensual Sex, Crime Fighting, Dirty Talk, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Voyeurism, Wade Wilson Breaking the Fourth Wall, Wade Wilson Takes Care of Peter Parker, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 11:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15795375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyLeah/pseuds/HollyLeah
Summary: Deadpool is a good friend that just wants to help Spider-Man unwind after an exhilarating team-up. Spidey is a stubborn little shit who is determined to keep fantasy and reality separate from one another.Well. At least, he tries to, anyway.





	Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by this photo -->  
> [http://dariensfw.tumblr.com/post/173844283529 ] by dariensfw. If anyone knows how to make that into a more concise link, let me know. All credit for the photo goes to them.

“Oh, my God, that was _awesome!”_

 

Peter laughed as he leaned heavily back on the concrete building behind him. He nodded his agreement, smiling at Deadpool behind his mask.

 

Deadpool continued, “I mean, hanging around you is always awesome, because you’re _Spider-Man_ , but _that_ was just- I mean, did you _see-!”_

 

Another laugh escaped the hero as his - partner? companion? _friend?-_ continued his ramblings.

 

They had just broken up a serious drug ring after weeks of preparing. It hadn’t taken that long to find a way in ( _“Bad guys never expect you to just walk through the front door, Spidey.”_ ) but the actual fight had taken quite a bit of time. So much time, in fact, that by the time everything was said and done, the sun had already started to bathe the world in red and orange hues as it crept over the horizon.

 

Peter guessed that Deadpool was referring to how, when one of the bad guys had pulled out a machine gun, the merc had managed to shoot right into the barrel, causing the whole gun to explode and the man to be knocked unconscious by the blast. Peter would admit- it _had_ been pretty cool.

 

“-and then you, with that amazing fucking ass of yours, I mean _Jesus,_ I could stare at that booty all day and not get tired of it-”

 

 _And_  there it was. Peter rolled his eyes and he could have sworn he felt one of them twitch in annoyance. “Really, Pool? You straight up _shot a bullet through the barrel of that guy’s gun_ and all your focused on right now is my **ass?”**    

 

Deadpool stopped, then smirked, the wide curl of his mouth evident even through his mask (which was honestly quite impressive; Peter had once looked at himself in the mirror with his mask on and the only noticeable facial feature had been his nose). He pushed away from the wall in one fluid motion and took a step towards Spider-Man. “Come on, baby boy, is it really that far of a jump?” he spread his arms out, “ _that move_ was amazing, _that Spider-Ass_  is **fantastic.** Can you blame me?”

 

“Yes,” Spidey responded blankly.

 

Deadpool took another step.

 

Now, Peter wasn’t stupid. He had won first place in every science fair he’d ever participated in, created his web formula (albeit a flimsy beta version) when he was only fifteen _in the chemistry classroom without getting caught_ , and regularly worked with Tony Stark _himself_ on multiple top secret projects. As such, Spidey knew that _objectively_ the other man was dangerous. Scary, even. Downright _terrifying_ in a way that no one else he knew was. Hell, Deadpool ****killed**** people for a living. And he _enjoyed_ it. _Bragged_ about it.

 

For some reason, however, while knowing all that, understanding that Deadpool could kill him at any moment without hesitation, Peter’s spidey senses were silent. So, he remained where he was, propped up against a frankly disgusting brick wall of the dank alleyway they stood in, completely vulnerable and open to attack.

 

Deadpool made another advance towards him. “Both Yellow _and_ White agree with me that you have a drool-worthy ass. Which rarely happens, let me tell you, so it has to have _some_ merit if they’re actually cooperating.”

 

Another step. The two supers ( _“Spidey, no matter how sexy I look in this suit, I am no hero.”_ ) now stood toe to toe with hardly any space between them; their chests, one bulging with muscle and the other lithely defined and toned, brushed together with every intake of breath. Peter wedged his arms into the minimal space separating them and crossed them defensively to give himself some semblance of control. He raised a brow.

 

“I thought they both loved Mexican food, too,” he drawled. Deadpool barked a laugh, pressing impossibly closer so that Peter’s arms bit into his chest.

 

“Oh, they do,” he answered, “but they _also_ just so happen to agree with me that you are by far the sexiest person on the planet. Also that cats are just paranoid, fancier versions of dogs but that’s not really relevant to the conversation.”

 

“How do you know that dogs aren’t just trusting, energetic versions of cats?”

 

“Because then the writer wouldn’t have had something kinda-but-not-really Deadpool humor-ish to make me say. She thinks that I’d like dogs more, for some reason.”

 

“...What?”

 

Deadpool sighed dramatically and dropped his head back to stare forlornly at the sky. “Trust me, it’s _nothing._ Just a rookie attempt at fourth wall breaking. Now, back to business.”

 

In a split second, the mercenary’s forearms caged Peter in on both sides, trapping him against the wall. Peter felt his heartbeat skyrocket and his palms convulse on his biceps, but still his spidey senses remained dormant. After a few milliseconds of deliberation, Peter decided, albeit hesitantly, to trust his instincts; he stayed where he was and refrained from kicking the other man away from him.     

 

“What are you doing,” Peter glared. It would have been lost on Deadpool had his voice not have hardened, a thinly veiled threat laced between every word. Deadpool chuckled deeply and for a single moment Peter caught a glimpse of the killer underneath, the monster baring its razor-sharp teeth through the baritone of Deadpool’s voice. Peter could say for the first time in a long time that in that moment he was well and truly afraid of him. Even still, against all of his other senses screaming at him, his super senses felt nothing. Spider-Man stood his ground.

 

“ _‘What are you doing, _’__ he says,” Deadpool mocked, voice edging higher in pitch in a crude imitation of Peter, “I thought it was obvious.” He brought his face in close, closer than he had ever come before, until Peter’s forehead pressed intimately against his. “I’m propositioning you.”

 

What.

 

“E-excuse me?” Peter squeaked.

 

“You heard me.” Deadpool slid one of his arms down the wall, slowly trailing down until his hand dropped onto Peter’s shoulder. He kept going, following the curve of Peter’s arm until he groped appreciatively at the muscle right above his elbow. “What do you say we have a little… _celebration_ , for taking down those bad guys earlier?” He tugged on Spidey’s arm, moving it slightly away from the hero’s chest without fully dislodging it. Peter gulped and turned his head to the side, thinking.

 

On one hand, he didn’t want Deadpool. He was loud, abrasive, crude, and just all-around awful to be around. He had no respect for personal space. Not once had he ever seen Peter and not made some sexual comment about his ass. Every single time he saw Deadpool the man smelled like metal and tacos and _blood._ And don’t even get Spidey _started_ on the state of the man’s apartment.

 

But on the other hand, no matter how hard he didn’t want to admit it, he _really wanted Deadpool _.__

__

Peter had spent many-a-night lying awake in bed, fantasizing within the safe confines of his bedroom, imagining what the other man would feel like pressed against him, on top of him. Too many times to count Peter had touched himself to the vision of Pool above him, or behind him, wedged between Peter’s legs like it was his birthright and making Peter gasp and whine like a paid whore. Sometimes, when the fantasy became a little _too_ real, a little _too_ desperate, Peter’s fingers would venture further, past his cock and balls to rub and prod at his entrance until he came all over himself and his bed sheets.

 

Those nights were always the best.

 

Still. There was a distinct line separating fantasy from reality and Peter was determined not to cross it.

 

“Deadpool,” Peter said in warning.

 

Deadpool just whined like a child and dropped his head onto Spidey’s shoulder. “Aw, come on. We all know that you need a little tension relief. I know your ass isn’t just that tight due to exercise, baby boy.”

 

Peter couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes again. He moved to nudge the other man away with his arms, but Deadpool, with his giant _everything,_ didn’t budge. And shit if that didn’t send blood rushing straight to Peter’s cock.

 

“Listen, Webs, I get why you’re hesitating. I’m _Deadpool,_ for Christ’s sake. Terrifying, bloodthirsty, ****mercenary**** Deadpool that kills without a second thought.” Deadpool brushed his mask-covered lips against the side of Peter’s neck. “But I’m _more_ than that. I’m Deadpool, yes, but I’m also _Wade.”_ The hand not gripping Peter’s arm slithered down the length of his body until it came to a stop on Spider-Man’s hip, “You’re _friend._

 

“And I know _exactly_ how to get you to relax, baby boy.”

       

 

 

“Spidey…Spidey, why are you so quiet?”

 

Peter’s head was reeling from the night’s events, and he wasn’t even certain what exactly had _happened_ to make him agree to this. One moment he’d been pressed to the wall with Deadpool propositioning him, and the next…

 

The next he’d been on the ground, Deadpool wedged between his legs as his gloved hands trailed over every inch of Peter’s spandex clad body he could reach. One of DP’s hands had pulled off him and then the tell-tale sound of metal being unsheathed had shot through Spidey’s senses just as a knife sliced through the part of his suit that covered his ass.

 

Peter had almost bolted up in protest but Deadpool’s other hand had pushed down on his abdomen with enough power to render him immobile. The knife had been put away and suddenly the suit was being ripped further, exposing his asshole and cock to Deadpool’s gaze. Deadpool himself had moaned at the sight and gripped himself inappropriately through his leather pants. And then -

 

 _ _‘_ Look at _you _ _,_ Spidey. God, now I can’t _wait _to remove that stick from your ass.’_

 

Deadpool had pulled one of his hands away to fish out a clear bottle of what Peter guessed had to be lube. He had tried to struggle then, half-hearted in the way that was expected of him, but Deadpool had only chuckled and said he would stop as soon as Spider-Man told him to.

 

Peter hadn’t, and now they were here; laid out in an alleyway, Deadpool leaning over Spider-Man’s side, two of the mercenary’s ungloved fingers buried deep in Peter’s ass while Peter had one hand latched onto the back of Deadpool’s neck and the other around the man’s muscular bicep, pushing Wade away and pulling him closer all at once.     

 

Deadpool stroked his thumb over the base of Peter’s dick and Peter realized with a jolt that _he could cum like this_. He could cum with only the pressure of Deadpool against him, his hot breath on his ear, his big, gloved hand on his hip, the other bare and buried deep in his ass. Peter could feel each and every slick glide of Wade’s long fingers inside him, filling him up and making him squirm. It would be no trouble at all to just let go and drown in the sensations, to cum hard and _so, so good_  all over both of their suits.

 

Peter _whined._       

 

“Holy shit,” Deadpool gasp. His fingers curled inside of Peter, pulling yet another whimper from Spidey as Wade jabbed against his prostate, the toe-curling sensation making him buck against Deadpool blindly. “Holy fuck, baby boy, make that noise again.”

 

“D-don’t…call me- nhh, th-th _a_ t,” the spider moaned. Wade chuckled in breathy amusement and Peter could feel it vibrate through his chest where they were pressed together. It made Peter shake with need.

 

“Why not, baby?” the mercenary purred. His mouth traced around the curve of Spider-man’s ear, which earned him another gasp. “I _know_ you love it when I call you that _just_ like I know how badly you tried to hide it. Did you _really_ think I wouldn’t notice? How that the first time I ever called you my baby boy you almost fell off the roof from how turned on it made you?” He twisted his fingers again then scissored them apart, quickly pinning the other man down when he squirmed a tad too powerfully against him. “Oh, man, I jerked off so hard that night I passed the _fuck_ out almost immediately, Spidey. Did you know that?”

 

Peter almost choked as Deadpool’s thick fingers jammed into his prostate again and again. The brick tiles of the building behind him dug uncomfortably into his shoulder blades, but he could barely even feel it over the drag of those long fingers inside him, of the slick slide of lube dripping down his ass onto the pavement beneath him. His hips bucked again of their own accord and he whined, high in his throat, his orgasm already building low in his belly and his balls pulling tight against him. All he needed was one more push, one more jab of his sweet spot and he could finally cum-!

 

Deadpool’s fingers stopped.

 

“Fucking dammit!” Peter yelled. It took him a few slow, agonizing seconds to grab his bearings well enough to glare daggers at Wade. He opened his mouth, ready to fillet the _fuck_ out of Deadpool, but was cut off before he could begin by a gloved hand grabbing his throat and **squeezing.**

 

Deadpool tutted. “Now, now, baby boy. Don’t you know it’s rude not to answer when someone asks you a question?” he smirked.

 

Peter couldn’t breath. He couldn’t _breath,_ he couldn’t _think;_ the only thing he _could_ do was go completely slack in Deadpool’s hold and bare his throat. It must have taken Wade by surprise because he stilled, hand still on Peter’s throat but not pressing down, not squeezing, just…sitting there.

 

“Holy shit. Holy _shit_ you have a choking kink. That is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” Deadpool gasped. The fingers inside Peter pulled out only to slam back inside Spidey’s tight heat even faster than before. The orgasm Peter had been denied simmered in his gut until it came rushing back with the power of a tsunami, rendering the hero speechless except for the loud moans and nonsensical gibberish he let out.      

 

And then Deadpool’s hand wrapped around his dick, stroking down the exact moment he rammed into Peter’s prostate, and Peter came all over the front of both their suits with a whine.

 

Coming down from his high, Peter found himself slumped in on himself, his head hanging down near his chest while his arms and legs splayed out across the grimy pavement below him. He looked up, eyes still hazy from bliss, and locked eyes with the white sockets of Deadpool’s mask.

 

Deadpool looked…wrecked.

 

It was hard to see details under DP’s suit, the task made even harder by the pitch black shadows marring the alleyway, but Peter picked up the unresolved tension in his shoulders, the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he panted; and he _especially_ noticed the prominent bulge in Deadpool’s pants, large and thick, that Deadpool couldn’t hope to hide from anyone much less a __super__.

 

Peter swallowed. “What…what about you?” he mumbled. Deadpool gulped and didn’t answer for a while, enough time passing for Peter to start thinking he wasn’t _going_ to, when he responded,

 

“Don’t worry about it, okay? This was about you, Spidey, not me.”

 

Peter was all ready to protest, to point out that it was hardly fair for him to cum while Deadpool didn’t, but a hand lightly squeezing at his throat killed whatever words he had on his tongue.

 

“I said don’t worry about it, baby boy,” Deadpool murmured, “Now go to sleep. I’ll get you home.”

 

Peter didn’t remember much after that.

 

He remembered strong arms lifting him, remembered burrowing into a hard chest while deep vibrations lulled him to rest, remembered the sound of cement under-toe as they moved through the city. He recalled soft sheets beneath him, warm blankets stretched on top of him, the feeling of something rough but soft brushing against his forehead. Nothing of the big picture, just…the little things.

 

Later, when he woke up, he would panic. Later, he’d bolt upright in his bed and scramble his hands over his body, sighing in unrestrained relief when he found his suit fully intact. Later, he’d wonder with dread just how Deadpool had known where he lived. Later, he’d bury himself in his covers and stress about how he’d cum on Deadpool’s fingers and worry about how it would affect their team dynamic.

 

For now, though, he slept peacefully, and dreamed of Wade.   

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, my third story in a row? I am on a roll! 
> 
> Haha, jk, I wrote this one before I even posted the first chapter of my multi-chapter fic :P Y'all thought. This was the first actual spideypool fanfic I ever wrote so I HAD to put in the 'breaking the fourth wall' shit. I just had to.
> 
> Also I'm sick right now so send me lots of love it's like medicine to me~ 
> 
> My [tumblr](http://xxhollyleahxx.tumblr.com/) in case you want to come talk to me, check up on story updates, look at spideypool stuff, etc. Also my profile pic is actually me so you'll get to see what I look like lol. It's still a work in progress, but it's getting there.


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